


Perpetual

by thatdamnuchiha



Series: Of Silver and Gold [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aman (Tolkien), F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, POV Glorfindel, Pining, Rivendell | Imladris, Second Age, Third Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21525673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdamnuchiha/pseuds/thatdamnuchiha
Summary: Love comes in many forms to the Eldar, but more often than not it is the kind that is perpetual and just as undying as they are.He loved her dearly, and he would always love her, even though she was no longer by his side.
Relationships: Glorfindel (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Of Silver and Gold [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551430
Comments: 3
Kudos: 195
Collections: Of Tales and Tears





	Perpetual

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my first attempts at writing in a different style, hopefully to make things feel more in line with that of Lord of the Rings and the Silmarillion. A short one shot from my newly titled 'Of Silver and Gold' series which is solely centred around this AU and pairing with this particular OC.

Silver hair was that which he first noticed about her, along with the oceanic tint to those eyes of hers which could never seem to decide whether they wished to be grey or blue. Perhaps if she had been born to a more prestigious family lineage then tales may have been sung about her beauty, but she was not. He dared not deny the small part of himself which was grateful for such, for otherwise her heart may have long been claimed before she became what she had to him. Mayhap had she been born on the shores of Valinor, then he might have mistaken her at a glance for one of the Teleri rather than the Noldor she so clearly was. Though he had little doubts the sea had long since claimed a fraction of her heart, no matter how landlocked she was in the very heart of the valley which concealed them so.

He had caught her once when she was younger, toes bare, skirts bunched up to her knees as she stood in the middle of one of many a fountains built within the hidden city of Gondolin. Though he had not revealed himself to her, simply watching with what was then a fond amusement as one of his household dallied about in the waters, singing to swans and moonlight in that sweet melodic voice of hers which reminded him of brighter lands and swan ships dotted amidst the waters.

Finding himself in those same lands a while later made him mourn his loss all the more, and while he dwelt in Valinor he dared not stray close to the shores, lest he spy those silver locks and be reminded of his unspoken love still cut off and away from him in the Halls of Mandos. When given his duties as ambassador though, he had no choice but to venture to the shores she would have so loved. He had no choice but to catch sight of those silvery locks of her grandmother’s people and be reminded of the patrols and adventures they had once shared under the same stars in Beleriand. But that was long ago, and now he had a venture to undertake and a sea to cross. He did so in a silvery ship, leaving the peaceful lands of Valinor far behind, stopping only once to glance back and muse upon whether his beloved would be there to welcome him back when he next returned there.

With a smile set upon his face, he sailed on, singing out occasionally in his loneliness to the silvery waters about his Aeargil, his foolish sea star who had long since fallen into darkness, but with whom he would ensure to one day meet again. Only when he reached the shores of Arda did he fall quiet, arriving back to lands vastly changed after the war which had ravaged and sunk many of the places he once knew. They welcomed him gladly into their city, and he fell into council with the High King of the Noldor, Gil-galad. Another star of light for him to bask in. There he was mighty, and his council sought by many of the wise. Others sought him too, maidens with slightly dimmer sparks in their eyes, praising and complimenting him with nary an ounce of hesitation. Though as time passed, he eventually felt a pull towards the settlement of Imladris, away from the coast and the seas where he would have no doubt delighted in walking, but only with her at his side.

Even there in the peaceful valley his hair was still likened to Laurelin, a thought which always brought a slight smile to his lips. For if his hair was in the likeness of the golden tree, then hers could only be compared to Telperion, and that was nothing if not a fitting match.

There were others there of silver hair, but whenever he looked all he could see was her face there, taunting him with what he had lost due to his own faults and fears. Perhaps had he been clearer and more blatant with his intentions then he may have had some modicum of happiness and bliss before the fall of Gondolin. Then, mayhap, he would have been certain about finding her once more, his love and claim upon her heart having been that much more tangible.

But he had been too slow, and too fearful, wondering if another would ensnare her. She would have looked lovely, clad in silvers and blues, with diamonds upon her brow. Reds would have suited her too, as would the hammer and the forge with that uncanny strength of hers. He had once found it odd – all that strength trapped within a vessel so small and dainty. Now though, he only wished to braid celandine into her silvery locks and wrap her within white and silvery gold, and to aid her in her desires to become a fine warrior. Though she already had in his eyes, with the strength of her will, and the way she had fought for him, always having his back whether with her words or her blade and bow. She had been a maelstrom beside him, always moving, always changing, and she had swept him away long ago. He had been enchanted by her, and it was one he doubted he would ever break. She had been the fire of the forge and the storm of the sea bound in flesh and, try as they might, no other could come close to her. Not least because the might of the elves was fading. Not least because she knew him and cared for him before he became the balrog slayer as he was so widely known as. She too was one, but he rarely ever heard any tales of her, aside from the one composed by one of his household members who had outlived them both.

Years went on, and he found solace and happiness within the House of Elrond. Gil-galad had fallen much like his other beloved star, but with changing seasons came the fading of grief as they weathered the storm and carried on with their lives. The stars twinkled above, the voices of elves singing reaching him, the clatter of horseshoes upon the hard paving as Lord Elrond’s sons returned from the hunting they had been sent out such a short while ago, and Glorfindel read in his study, blissfully ignorant to the storm approaching.


End file.
